A Christmas Miracle

"I'm a fighter."

Dr. Russell nodded. "Just remember, half the battle's up here." He tapped his temple three times with the tip of his finger.

"I'll keep that in mind," I said before falling asleep.

CHAPTER 6

I woke up the next morning when a nurse came in to deliver a breakfast tray. Tea with cup of broth and a tiny bowl of green jelly.

"This is all I get? I haven't eaten in five days. I'm starving."

"The doctor wrote DAT in your chart," she informed me, "which means 'diet as tolerated.' They'll see how you do sipping on this, then they'll advance you to something more."

"So lunch will be better?"

"Maybe. As long as you can keep this down."

"Great." I reached for the cup of broth and hoped for the best.

A half hour later, my mother and my dad walked into the room. Mom burst into tears at the sight of me.

"Thank God you're awake!" she said, bending over the bed rail to hug me. "I'm so sorry we weren't here when you woke up. They sent us home."

"No worries, Mom. You're here now."

Dad moved to the other side of the bed and hugged me as well. "You are one tough cop," he said with a grin. "You were all over the news."

"Yeah?" I replied. "So I'm a celebrity now?"

"Pretty much," Mom replied. "The reporters were outside for the first few days, but they're gone now. I'm sure they'll be back when they hear you're awake."

I rubbed the back of my neck. "I'm not really up for talking to reporters. I haven't even tried to walk yet. And I could use a shower."

"Don't worry about any of that press stuff," Mom said. "We'll handle everything and tell them how you're doing. There are a lot of concerned people out there. People in Middletown were lighting candles and praying for you all the time."

I thought about my strange experience in the operating room and couldn't help but wonder if it was all those prayers that had brought me back. I probably should have said something to my family about my experience, but in the morning light, it seemed less real than it had when I first woke up.

Maybe the whole thing was merely a dream.

"Have you heard the news?" Mom asked.

I shook my head while I scraped the bottom of the small bowl of jelly.

"The kidnapper's in custody."

"He's alive?"

"Yeah, he's fine. You shot him in the leg and he was released from the hospital after a day or two."

"What about the woman?"

"She's fine, too," Mom replied. She's very grateful for what you and Bert did for her. She said the guy stole her van while she was pumping gas. He forced her inside, then got behind the wheel and kept the gun on her. Turns out he was running from some drug dealers he owed money to. The woman came to visit you the first days. Those are the flowers she left."

Mom pointed toward the window.

"That was thoughtful," I said.

Mom leaned over the bed to kiss me on the cheek. "We're just glad you're all right. We've all been so worried."

She stepped back when two nurses entered the room with towels and a pan of water. "Good morning, Nick," one of them said cheerfully. "I'm Sandy. Are you ready for a bath?"

"I thought you'd never ask," I replied. "Does a sponge bath count as a date, Sandy?"

I winked at her and the nurse laughed. My parents shook their heads with a smile and went out for coffee.

CHAPTER 7

I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up, a golden light from the setting sun was beaming through the window.

I pressed the call button and a nurse hurried through the door. "Is everything all right?"

I inched upward on the pillows and grimaced at the stiffness in my body. "I'd like to take a walk."

"That's a great idea." She approached the bed and lowered the rail. "And very ambitious of you. Most patients have to be dragged kicking and screaming out of their beds after surgery."

"I don't want to just lie around," I told her. "I need to get back to work. Sooner would be better than later."

My muscles felt weak and rubbery, but I was determined to be mobile again. I couldn't let myself fall into a rut.

"You're scheduled for physio tomorrow," the nurse informed me as we shuffled toward the door. "Just remember, even a healthy person would find it a challenge to walk after being asleep for five days."

We walked the full length of the hall and back, and I realized quickly that that was more than enough. "Thanks," I said. "I needed that." By then I was feeling a bit dizzy and needed to get back in the bed.

A voice in the room startled me out of my thoughts and caused me to jump. "Did someone order a psych consult?"

I lifted my head on the pillow. There stood Wendy at the foot of my bed. The evening sunlight from the window reflected blindingly off the aluminum clipboard she hugged to her chest.

"That's a definite yes," I replied, more than a little relieved to see her again, "for the crazy cop in room 237."

Her face lit up with a smile as she moved to the side of my bed.

"Let's get you sitting up so I can do a proper assessment," Wendy said. She laid the clipboard on the side table and raised the head of my bed with the push of a button.

This allowed me an opportunity to admire, up close, the lovely details of her face. She had grown into a beautiful woman.

"I'm just going to ask you a few standard questions to get us started. Are you ready?"

"Fire away."

Pen in hand, she looked down at the chart. "Do you have any medical problems?"

"Besides having been shot twice in the past week." I inched upwards on the bed. "Well, I have no spleen, but otherwise, I'm pretty healthy. I exercise regularly, eat well. My blood pressure's always good."

"Have you ever been diagnosed with a mental illness in the past?"

"No."

"Have you ever seen a mental health provider such as a psychiatrist, psychologist, or social worker before? Perhaps at work?"

Again, I said no. Then Wendy asked if I was on any medications, or if anyone in my family suffered from mental illness.

"Not that I know of."

"Do you belong to any particular religion?"

"Not really," I replied. "I mean... I was baptized in the Episcopal Church, but we only went to services on special holidays like Christmas and Easter. It's not really a big part of my life."

She wrote some more things down. Then she flipped the page, paused a moment and took a breath.

"All right then. What about hallucinations, Nick? Have you ever had any unusual experiences such as hearing voices that other people can't hear? Or seeing things other people can't see? Or do you have unusual ideas, such as feeling that you have special powers that no one else has?"

I hesitated a moment, and she watched me intently.

"It's written in my chart, I suppose?" I asked. "That's why you're asking this question?" Great. Now I sounded paranoid.

She continued to stare at me. "What's written in your chart?"

"What I told Dr. Russell when I first woke up last night. That I might have had a..." I paused again.

"You might have had a what, Nick?"

I cleared my throat. "It'll probably sound ridiculous, but I think I might have had a..." I lowered my voice even further. "A near-death experience during surgery."

When she did nothing but blink at me, I quickly raised a hand. "Look, if it's all the same to you, I don't want that to go on my record at work. That's the last thing I need because they don't typically issue a weapon to a cop who's delusional or being diagnosed with some sort of weird psychosis."

Again, Wendy simply watched me, and I sensed she was waiting for me to elaborate on what happened. Or what I thought happened.

When I didn't offer anything more, she asked, "Was it an out-of-body experience?"

I wet my lips. "I don't know. Maybe I went to heaven for a minute, except that I don't really believe in that stuff. I was hoping... maybe you'd know, being a psychiatrist and everything. Have you ever dealt with anyone who's experienced something like this before? Is it common?"

Wendy reclined back in her chair. "I wouldn't say it's common, but it's not unheard of either. I'll be honest with you Nick, most members of the medical community are skeptical about near-death experiences. It's usually considered that the patient experienced some sort of hallucination. But there are those out there who are interested in finding answers."

"I just want to figure out what happened."

Wendy sat forward and rested her elbow on her knee, her chin on her fist. "What do you think happened?"

I stared at her uneasily. "I'm pretty sure I died during the surgery and somehow I witnessed what was happening in the OR from a place outside my body. I just want to understand how that could happen. And what was the light I saw? Was it heaven? Or is that what happens when the brain shuts down? Is it physiological?"

She leaned back and rested her temple on her forefinger.

"Most researchers don't consider it proof of God or heaven or the afterlife, although some are trying to prove there's a connection."

"What do you believe?" I asked.

She let out a sigh. "If you want my honest opinion as a medical professional, I think this is something beyond our ability to understand at this point in time. Maybe someday we'll be able to prove what it is, but for now, it's still considered fringe science. With that said, I have an open mind."

A profound sense of relief moved through me. "So you don't think I'm crazy?"

She chuckled softly. "That's not a word I like to use when I'm describing my patients."

I felt the corner of my mouth curl up in a grin. "Fair enough."

"Can you tell me more about your experience?"

I glanced at the chart she'd set aside. "Can it be off the record?"

"Nothing of what we're talking will be on your record," she assured me.

I trusted Wendy, so I described every detail of my experience in the operating room, and how I floated to the ceiling and moved toward a light that drew me in and escorted me to another luminous place.

"It's true what they say about your life flashing before your eyes," I told her. "I saw everything. I felt it, as if it were happening in real time, yet a part of me knew it wasn't. I knew I'd been shot and that my body was dying, yet I was reliving the past.

"Strangely, I think it was your voice that pulled me out of that memory and helped me regain consciousness."

Wendy pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and sat forward.

"Tell me more about those beings of light. You mentioned that you recognized your grandmother? Did she speak to you?"

"There weren't really any actual words spoken," I explained, "but I knew she was saying hello and welcoming me. There were others that seemed familiar, but I couldn't make out who they were. It was a bit fuzzy."

"Fuzzy," she repeated.

I nodded. "I was resisting everything I was seeing. Like I didn't want to believe it was real."

"Were you afraid?"

"Not at all." I looked down at my hands on my lap. "It seems odd to me now, how people fear death."

"How do you feel about being back among the living?" she asked. "Any regrets?"

I had to think about that for a moment. "I don't know yet," I said. "Part of me is wondering if I returned for a specific purpose."

"Like what?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe that's crazy, but I feel like that light being knew something I didn't. It struck me as being very knowledgeable."

Wendy seemed to be lost in her own thoughts.

"I can't believe I'm telling you this," I said. "If you were any other doctor, I doubt I would say a word. I don't want this to affect my job."

Then it came, the inevitable yawn.

Wendy flipped the chart closed. "It's time for you to get some sleep. We can continue our talk tomorrow. There are some other things I'd like to talk to you about as well."

"You know where I am," I said, "although I think I'm scheduled for some physio during the day."

"That's all right. I'm on the night shift anyway." She leaned down to kiss my cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I nodded and close my eyes. When I opened them again she was gone and the room seemed extraordinarily empty.

CHAPTER 8

The following day, I spent an hour in the physiotherapy department where I exercised my muscles and was taught movements I could do on my own while lying in bed.

Afterward, I returned to my room to find Bert, waiting there.

"You look great, kid," he said with a grin. I was never happier to hear Bert calling me 'kid' again. "Everyone in town had been praying for you. You're a celebrity now."

"So I heard," I replied before limping back to the bed.

"They told us they weren't sure if you were going to make it."

"I almost didn't."

Bert face was clouded with sadness for a brief moment. Neither of us said anything for an awkward minute or two.

"You better hurry back, kid. I'm not getting any younger, you know. One of these days I'm going to retire."

A nurse helped me to lie in bed, "Doctors told me it wouldn't be long before I'll be discharged."

"Good. Focus on your recovery and prepare for a hero's welcome when you come back to Middletown. The Mayor is really pleased with the media attention our town is getting."

Surprisingly, I had mixed feelings about that.

Wendy came back in the evening after visiting hours were over. She sat on my bed and I asked her "Can I ask some questions before you start with another round of your own?"

Her expression warmed. "Of course you can, Nick."

"Could you just be Wendy, the girl I knew when we were kids and not the shrink?"

She checked her watch and laid her clipboard down on the windowsill. "I suppose I'm due for a break. What would you like to talk about?"

Reaching for the pen on the bedside table, I clicked it a few times with my thumb to tease her. "Just to warn you, I might need to take some notes."

Wendy laughed and moved a little closer. "I deserve that."

"Tell me about your family," I said. "How are your parents? What has J.J. been up to?"

Wendy perched an elbow on the armrest of the chair. "My parents, surprisingly, are still together, which I consider a miracle, because you must remember what my father was like."

"Yes sir, sergeant major general," I joked.

Wendy chuckled.

"You and your sister went to private school, didn't you?"

"Yes, and I learned to play the clarinet. Daily lessons and a front row position in the school band."

"Do you still play?" I asked.

She inclined her head. "Sadly, no. Truth is I sucked. I made dogs howl. Lizzie played quite well and she enjoyed it, but even so Dad didn't let her keep the clarinet. 'Your studies come first' and all that," she said impersonating her father's voice.

We both laughed. "Sounds like your dad. What about J.J.? Where is he now?"

Wendy gazed at me lingeringly. "You don't know?"

"No. We lost touch, remember?"

"It's not easy to talk about it. It wasn't our brightest moment as a family." She paused.

"J.J. never returned home after he graduated from military school."

"What? Why not?"

"Dad didn't let us attend his graduation. He wanted to teach him one last lesson about the cost of defying his orders before he came back home. In any case, it backfired on him," Wendy's face reflected a deep sadness. "He never came back."

"I can't say I'm surprised. He probably didn't want to change one military school for another. Do you have any idea where he is?"

"No. Dad forbade any of us talking with him or about him."

Wendy shut her eyes and rubbed her hands over her face. "I'm sorry. It hurts to talk about it."

I gave her a moment to regain her composure.

"I'm truly ashamed to admit none of us even tried to find him. For some reason, we all just stuck our heads in the sand. It's probably my biggest regret in life. All I remember is wanting to please Dad and being more preoccupied with what he wanted than worrying about my younger brother. I wanted to get the highest grades, the biggest scholarship, get accepted into med school. Meanwhile, J.J. just rebelled. I think my brother resented me for setting the bar so high and I've always felt guilty about that."

"If you like, I could locate him for you," I carefully offered.

She thought about that and finally she smiled. "Thank you, Nick. That would be great! Maybe that's why I'm sticking around." She winked at me.

Then, all of a sudden, Wendy checked her watch and stood up. "Look at that. It's my time. I have to go."

"Wait... Wendy..." I sat forward. "Will you come and see me tomorrow?"

"I don't know," she replied.

"Look, I just want to keep in touch. Can you give me your phone number?" I quickly asked with a flash of worry.

She hesitated.

"Or not."

"It's not you, Nick. It's complicated."

I thought she probably had a boyfriend, and I didn't push.

"Nick, you should pay the family a visit. They are living in Nearville now, in a fancy two story cottage at the end of Canyon Road. No need to call first. Mom will be thrilled to see you."

Relaxing somewhat, I sat back and committed her directions to my memory.

"I will," I said. "But maybe I'll try to come by when your father's not at home. Does he work days or nights?"

She chuckled. "You're a cop now. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you."

"If you say so," I seriously doubt it.

"Come to visit as soon as you're discharged. Promise?" she asked.

"I will. I promise."

As Wendy backed away, I immediately scribbled the address on the back of a magazine, Nearville. Canyon Road. Two story cottage.

CHAPTER 9

Finally, I was discharged with instructions to return to the hospital for regular physiotherapy appointments over the next four weeks. I was not permitted to return to work for at least six weeks.

The town gave me a hero's welcome. Knowing that I was still in recovery, the Mayor kept it short. He gave a speech and the girl I had saved, thanked me for my bravery. They gave me a medal and the reporters took some pictures and asked us a few questions. By the time they were done with us, my leg hurt and I wanted to go home.

Bert drove me back to my place, and I asked him to dig up any information on Jonathan James Reynolds.

A full week went by. One day, my cell phone rang while I was in the shower. Normally, I would have let it go to voice mail, but I decided to step out and towel off to answer it. I'm glad I did.

Bert had finally located J.J. The information he sent me provided a legitimate excuse for me to visit Wendy. Knowing that she worked the night shifts at the hospital, I decided to pop by in the afternoon.

A light rain was falling as I left my apartment, got into my car and drove to Nearville.

Part of me felt torn. It had been twenty years since I'd had any contact with the Reynolds family, so maybe they'd consider me a stranger and ask why I was poking my nose into their personal affairs. They might not even recognize me at the door.

Maybe they didn't even want to know about J.J. That prospect had occurred to me more than once, because surely if Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds wanted to know what had become of their son, they could have found a way. At the very least, they could have hired a private investigator.

In the end, as I turned up Canyon Road in search of their cottage, all that mattered to me was what Wendy wanted. Based on our conversation at the hospital, I sensed in her a desire to bring me into this.

I pulled up next to the stone walkway, opened the car door and got out. The rain was coming down harder by then. I knew I couldn't make a run because of my leg, so I drew up the hood of my jacket and limped up to the house.

I rang the bell and waited. A couple of minutes later, the front door opened and I found myself staring at a somber-looking young woman with golden hair and blue eyes.